The production notes for "Affliction" advise us that if a
kitten does not have human contact during the first two
weeks of its life, it will never EVER respond to human touch.
It will become a feral beast. This may sound harsh and
inspire disbelief, but as an animal lover I can affirm that the
statement is absolutely true. Imagine, then, that the feline is
not simply ignored by people but is actually kicked around
and thrown out of windows by wanton boys, and perhaps
then you can accept this fact of nature. This example may
be used to symbolize what happens when a small boy is
abused by a drunken father virtually every week of his young
life. Not only will the lad likely turn into an alcoholic himself:
he will bear the imprint of this misuse throughout his days.
Though most people will probably repress the memory and
go on to live seemingly normal, if vaguely unhappy lives,
Wade Whitehouse (Nick Nolte), the principal character in
writer-director Paul Schrader's "Affliction," is unable to curb
his rage. Based on a novel by Russell Banks and
thematically similar to that author's more appealing short
story, "The Sweet Hereafter," "Affliction" cannot sustain its
thematic weight. Mr. Schrader is intent on dramatizing not
just a textbook case of abnormal psychology but on
portraying, Greek-tragic style, the affects of a strongly macho
culture on generation after generation of men, propelling the
narrative into epic import. This has a legendary impact that
could well work on the page but is too ponderous, sluggish,
and alien to the virtues of the screen.

The chief flaw in this movie occurs at the very beginning.
Wade's brother Rolfe (Willem Dafoe) delivers an off-screen
narration, giving away a key point of the plot. By explaining
right off the bat that he will relate the story of a man who
gave full vent to his neurotic obsessions and thereby suffered
cognitive deterioration, he forgets that the audience wants to
believe Wade's interpretation of events, to cheer for him as
he moves to root out evil in his town. By giving away the
store during the initial minutes, Rolfe has destroyed most of
the tension that the story could have developed.

The story takes place in a bleak, snowed-in, economically
depressed rural area of northern New Hampshire (actually
filmed near Montreal), the sort of rustic "paradise" that people
with an ounce of smarts would make tracks from, and pronto.
Wade, however, has remained, despite the failure of his two
marriages to Lillian (Mary Beth Hurt), sustained by odd jobs
for businessman-selectman Gordon Lariviere (Holmes
Osborne) and a laughable job as a traffic cop with no crimes
to pursue. When rich union leader Evan Twombley (Sean
McCann) is killed in a hunting accident, Wade suspects foul
play, convinced that the man was murdered by his hunting
guide and Wade's friend, Jack (Jim True), at the orders of
Twombley's son-in-law, Mel Gordon (Steve Adams). Seeing
the chance to become a hero and thereby regain the affection
of his wife and his nine-year-old daughter Jill (Brigid Tierney),
he pursues an investigation, provoking conflicts with his boss
and the hostility of the suspected mastermind in murder,
Gordon. Though he has gained the devotion of the local
waitress Margie (Sissy Spacek), he cannot dispel the
memories of his abusive dad, Pop Whitehouse (James
Coburn), whom he conjures us in his memories of childhood
days and whom he visits as well in the present. Though his
brother Rolfe (Willem Dafoe) has successfully escaped to the
big city by becoming a professor at Boston University--
determined never to return unless tragedy were to strike his
family in Laverne, New Hampshire--Wade cannot break the
bonds of his cruel and offensive dad and sets up a self-
destructive scenario.

There is much to admire in the performances. Nick Nolte
gives one of the finest of his career as a man who
successfully covers up his emotional scars, particularly in the
affectionate way he relates to his daughter, Jill, whom he has
taken for the weekend Halloween festivities. You've got to
admire his patience. Jill is the sort of youngster who could
try anyone's patience, a disagreeable, insulting, hostile
creature who from the moment she arrives at the party insists
on being taken home to her mother. One can see, as well, a
certain fondness he holds for his girl friend Margie, though he
throws hints that he is proposing marriage to her only as a
way to help gain custody of his daughter. James Coburn as
Wade's dad is precise in his depiction of a man who is
anything but politically correct, one who has apparently
learned his lessons well at his own father's knee: that women
should know their place and sons should show unmitigated
respect and devotion toward their dads.

There are few people in this harsh environment to
sympathize with. We get the feeling that Schrader, and
novelist Banks before him, are eager to get this story to the
public as an antidote to feel-good movies like "Pleasantville"
and "The Truman Show," which celebrate the virtues of
small-town life. This is to the good: an acerbic edge is
welcome if only to deconstruct the false homilies we've been
brought up to believe. But despite fine performances and
ambient music to match the dismal milieu, "Affliction" is too
novelistic, dependent on outright narration, too much in the
principal character's head, and, thanks to Willem Dafoe's
opening narrative which gives away the design, too lacking in
suspense.